


The Stars Are a Part Of Us

by BellaDonnaLafayette



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Almost Famous au, Consensual Underage Sex, Drug Use, Excessive Drinking, F/M, GNR were no angels, Groupies, Guns N Roses Canadian tour, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaDonnaLafayette/pseuds/BellaDonnaLafayette
Summary: She must be the brains of this outfit.  She hates us all.
Relationships: Izzy Stradlin/Original Female Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. The Brains of This Outfit

**Author's Note:**

> A riff on "Almost Famous" starring Guns N' Roses on their Canadian tour. This is not meant to glamorize underage groupies AT ALL; however, you really can't discuss GNR (or a lot of bands, for that matter) without bringing them up. Sometimes the bands treated them well, and other times they were traded to Humble Pie for $50 and a case of beer.  
> This is a work of fiction, inspired by real events. Some facts I have used but not in their timeframe (i. e. Izzy got sober in 1989, not 87). I had an idea for this that would not leave me alone, and here is the end result. Even thought the subject matter is fairly dark, I hope you enjoy it.

1987

_This must be her._

Izzy sat up straighter, watching as a short blonde shuffled toward the back of the bus, a huge bag on her shoulder and carrying a pillow in her arms. She didn’t notice him sitting in the next to the last seat, and she flopped down on the one behind him, setting down her pillow and leaning against it, then rifling through her purse till she found a book.

 _Bella Donna. The most beautiful one of all._ She certainly was pretty, he thought, with her long blonde waves and huge blue eyes. She dressed like Stevie Nicks’s runaway progeny too, all ruffles and lace and faded jeans, although instead of Stevie’s platforms she wore a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots. 

_I’ve never seen a groupie play hard to get, he chuckled to himself. She must be something else._ Watching her turn a page, he noticed her full lips pursing as she read the text. He couldn’t make out what the title was, but he could see a long-haired bare-chested hunk and a bosomy babe spilling out of her bodice in a passionate clinch on the cover. 

_Oh, shit, she’s reading romance novels. Probably wants me to seduce her._

Izzy didn’t think he was quite up to that. 

87 had been rough on him so far. Getting busted on a possessions charge (thankfully, it hadn’t included a “with an intent to sell,” although that had been _exactly_ his intention), sentenced to rehab and now on probation, with orders he continue to be piss tested on the road.

It was a miracle he was allowed to leave the country, but his lawyer (who was far too good to be in his pay scale, Izzy noted) argued that his client’s ability to earn a living shouldn’t be hampered by his arrest. (The fact that his paying profession had led his arrest wasn’t lost on him either.) To his amazement, the judge had agreed, and Geffen, desperate to recoup their investment and make a little scratch before the band killed themselves, sent them with The Cult on a tour of Canadian hockey rinks. Woo hoo. 

Just before the tour started, he and Niv were approached in a shitty dive by a curvy brunette introducing herself as Absinthe and claiming she was one of the Road Wives. 

“Heard of us?” she asked, coyly batting her eyelashes.

Izzy took a sip from his Coke and nodded. Yes, he’d heard of all of them. The Flying Garter Girls, the GTO’s, the Road Wives. All conglomerates of groupies who traveled with bands and made life on the road even more colorful and chaotic.

“Of course you have. It’s an honor to travel with the Wives.”

Izzy rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke from his nose. “And you’ve selected us, I suppose.”

Absinthe smiled, the contrast of her crimson pout with her white teeth and skin visible even in the dim light. “We have. Our leader Velvet has chosen Axl as her traveling companion.” 

Niven smirked, and Izzy raised his eyebrows. “Has this already been decided?” he said quietly.

Those red lips formed a tight line. “No. Axl said to take this up with you. ‘Izzy has the final word,’ he said.”

He took another drag, and she leaped at the opportunity to speak. “There’s uhh, four of us, and Celestia has picked Slash, and I,” she smiled, and Izzy swore he saw devil horns poke out of her dark hair, “I settle down with no man, but I’ve spent time with your drummer and won’t mind repeating that experience.”

He flicked his ash from his cigarette, bored disinterest on his unsmiling face. “And Duff is married.”

She swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, Duff is engaged, and has cordially informed us he will not require our services. Shame, there’s a tree I’d like to climb again and again.”

Izzy lit a new cigarette with the end of the first one and ground the butt out, then leaned forward on the table and said, “Shame, because I say no to the whole shooting match.”

The whites of her black-lined eyes became enormous. “Wait, you haven’t heard who’s with you.”

“I don’t care who’s with me,” he said, in a quiet but firm voice. “I’m on fucking probation and I don’t need any more headaches. And I damn sure don’t need four chicks we have to babysit.”

“Hear her out,” Niven snickered. “I gotta hear about the whore that wants you.”

Absinthe licked the front of her teeth. “Bella Donna. The most beautiful one of all,” she said softly.

Izzy shook his head. “Nope. I’m not traveling with anyone fucked up or underage.”

“She’s 21. And she blows a gasket over drugs.”

Niven elbowed Izzy. “She sounds right up your alley, mate.”

Izzy shifted in his seat, rolling the end of his cigarette in the ashtray as he chewed the inside of his cheek. 

“She and I went to school together, and we’re older than the other girls. We keep them in line. They will not cause you any problems on the road. You have my word.”

Izzy slid his eyes to Alan, who shrugged. “Canada’s cold, Izz.”

Absinthe smiled. 

He still wasn’t convinced. “She doesn’t use? Cause I’ve never heard of a groupie who didn’t.”

She shook her head. “Reads us the riot act if we do. She smokes weed every now and then, but I don’t even think she’s done that in the last six months.” She batted her eyes, sensing his interest. “Drinks the occasional beer, but she’s normally our DD.”

Izzy sighed, then downed the last of his Coke. “All right. One fuckup, and I don’t care what it is, if one of you broads even breaks a nail, your asses are heading home. Put that in the tour budget Niv, four bus tickets back to LA if any of them get the hiccups.” He stood up. “I’m not joking.”

No, a seduction was not something he was up to. Maybe a quick fuck when the bus got dark, if she loosened up a little. Normally, groupies sucked you off as a way of saying hello, but this one had tromped on past him and buried her nose in a book.

_Honey, is that any way to welcome your man?_

He leaned over the bus seat, carefully studying her. She wore a moonstone ring on one hand, a crystal ball set in a pair of hands ring on the other one, and gigantic sparkly hoop earrings. He didn’t especially understand this Stevie Nicks fixation, but if memory served, _she’d_ fucked her way through Fleetwood Mac _and_ the Eagles, so as long as Rhiannon here didn’t wear a chastity belt, it was fine by him.

He tilted his head and asked, “Aren’t you going to say hi?”

Her eyes darted up from her page, then back down. “Hi.”

He had another great view of the top of her head. “Is this any way to act?”

She turned a page, her eyes not leaving her book. “I wasn’t aware I was a bother.”

Since Izzy’s arrest, patience was not something he had large reserves of. “Are you really going to do this?” he snapped.

Her eyes met his then, and he had a second to register how long her eyelashes were before he realized how irritated she was. “Do _WHAT,_ may I ask?” she growled, her voice hard.

Izzy was thrown, but he shrugged it off. _Maybe this is foreplay to her._ “Why aren’t you in my lap right now? Daddy’s had a rough day.”

She went completely, utterly still, then asked, _“What?”_

A little voice in his head (something he heard much more frequently now that he was sober) told him something was off, but he blurted, “You’re my whore and I shouldn’t have to beg you to blow me.”

He watched her cheeks flush, then the sides of her neck, and he belatedly realized that this was someone you didn’t piss off. To his relief, she didn’t reach into her purse, but instead slammed her book shut and gritted, “Who told you I was your whore?”

“Well, I see you two have met,” Absinthe said, smiling as she sat down next to her.

“She did,” Izzy said, tipping his chin up, not taking his eyes off the blonde.

“Amy Louise, do you mind telling me what the fuck is going on?” She glanced up at Izzy. “Are you telling people I’m ‘Bella Donna the wonder groupie’ again?” Closing her eyes, she muttered, “Because you know how much I hate that.”

“Ahh,” Absinthe answered, “well, possibly. But you really should get to know Izzy.”

Her eyes darted back to him. “I’m good,” she snapped. “I think I know all I need to know.”

“What’s the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he growled.

“It means what you think it means.” She turned to Absinthe. “You are going to stop calling me ‘Bella Donna’ or I am going to make you stop. You got that?”

“Yes.” Shoulders slumping, Absinthe stood up and walked back to the front of the bus.

Izzy watched as the blonde laid her forehead on her palm, then reached into her bag and lit a cigarette with trembling hands. She looked up at him. “Did you get that, Hoss?” she said in a tired voice. “I’m not ‘Bella Donna,’ and I’m definitely not your whore.”

He nodded, then a small voice said, “Sissy? Is that my Sissy?” A younger girl with brown hair sat down next to her, and she immediately hugged her, then laid her head on her shoulder.

“I love you, Sis,” the younger girl said.

“I love you, too, Celly Belly.”

“Who’s that?”

“That’s Izzy.”

“Hi, Izzy, I’m Celestia.”

“Hi.”

“Izzy, this is my sister, Karen.”

“We’ve met,” Karen said icily.

“Why don’t you like him? He’s cute.”

Karen looked at her sister in horror. “He’s a drug dealer.”

“Former,” Izzy said.

“And a junkie.”

“Also former.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Nope, she left me when I went to rehab. For another guitarist with better drugs.”

“He’s cute. You should bang him.”

“Celestia. That’s not why you sleep with people.”

“Yes, it is,” Celestia and Izzy said in unison.

Karen rolled her eyes. “That’s not why _I_ sleep with people.”

“Have you talked to Steve?” Celestia asked.

Karen breathed out a sigh. “No, not since he took up with that model. Catriona.”

“Steve is an idiot,” Celestia said, lighting up a cigarette. “I heard their record is multi platinum.”

“Yeah, they brought Mutt back.” Karen said. “When you sell that many records, that’s when the models show up.”

“Yeah.” Celestia blew out a plume of smoke. “Did you bring your hat?”

Karen crossed her arms and slumped in her seat. “Yeah.”

“Yay!” Celestia squeezed her. “ I know you don’t want to be ‘Bella Donna’ anymore, but I love it when you are.” She looked up at Izzy, who was still watching them.  
“I bet he could make you forget Steve.”

“I’m good.” Karen tightened her arms and scowled.

“Sissy, please be nice to Izzy.”

“Why?”

“Because I really like Slash. And Izzy will make us go home if we don’t behave.”

Karen looked at Izzy, then Celestia. “You really want to stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Celestia?” a voice called. “Baby, where are you?”

Celestia said, “I gotta go. I love you, Sis.”

“Here,” Karen said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a handful of condoms. “Don’t fuck him without one. I don’t want any more doctor’s visits.”

Celestia tucked them inside her waistband of her microshorts, then kissed Karen’s cheek. “I’m not going to get in trouble again, I promise.” As she stood up, she  
smiled at Izzy, then squealed, “Slashy!”

Izzy lit a cigarette and smirked at Karen. “Well, that was just absolutely fucking touching, but you twats are hitting the pavement the first stop we make.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh, yes, you are.”

Karen narrowed her eyes. “That girl is 16. Velvet is 17. And you’re planning to take them into another country to have sex with them, which the last time I looked was a criminal act.”

“Not if we dump your asses out before we hit the border.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Well, you’re not. I’m on probation and I don’t need this bullshit.”

“Yes, let’s talk about that. You do realize any of these girls, myself included, though I wouldn’t, can at any time say, ‘He raped me?’ ‘He hit me?’ Now for anyone else in this band, that would be any given Tuesday, but for you? You have a lot more to lose.”

Izzy’s eyes widened. 

“I mean, Absinthe told you I was your whore, and obviously that’s not true. We’re liable to say just _anything.”_

He shifted in his seat, feeling a chill run down his back.

“Where are we stopping anyway? McDonald’s? There’s always a cop there with nothing to do. Maybe he’ll have time for a damsel in distress.”

Izzy swallowed. “What do you want?” he gritted, knowing she had the upper hand.

“You can show us ‘twats’ a little respect, for starters.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” he spat. “Your ass is chapped because I was a dealer.”

“Hoss, don’t make me play my ace. Cause I have four of them, and I ain’t on probation.”

He ground his molars together. “What else?”

“We stay, and you provide us with basic human necessities. A place to sleep, food, and shelter.”

“And?”

“Take us backstage.”

“That’s a given.”

She shrugged.

“Then what?”

“Then your band runs around with empty balls and everyone is happy happy happy. ‘Cept you, you’re on your own with that.” She crossed her arms. “And I make sure no one is a headache. You’ll never know we’re here.”

“Can I believe you?”

She directly met his gaze. “Yes.”

“How do I know that?”

“I’m not a liar. I’ve been honest about everything so far.”

_Why didn’t I meet you first? It would’ve saved a shitload of time. _“Why are you here?” he snapped.__

__“Because your band has a body count, Stradlin.”_ _

__“The fuck are you talking about?”_ _

__“Todd Crew. Slash shot him up, did he not?”_ _

__Izzy took a deep breath. “He says he didn’t.”_ _

__“Do you believe that?”_ _

__“What I believe is none of your fucking business.”_ _

__“I heard he did, and Todd died in his arms.”_ _

__Izzy lit a cigarette and looked away. “We, ah, we were all gutted when he died.”_ _

__“Well, my baby sister is sleeping with Slash, and I want to make sure that is an isolated incident.”_ _

__Izzy took a drag. “It is. None of us are on smack anymore. Slash just drinks now, and I can’t do fucking anything.”_ _

__Karen met his eyes. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not entirely swayed by your testimony.”_ _

__He shrugged. Even though she was judgmental and unforgiving, he could see where she was coming from. If he had a sister, he’d _shit _himself if she took up with Slash. Or any of them.___ _

_She must be the brains of this outfit. She hates us all._

____Karen shot him one final filthy look, then dug a Walkman out of her purse and closed her eyes, resolutely shutting him out._ _ _ _

____Izzy sighed, then his eyes landed a few seats ahead of him. Duff had pledged undying fidelity to his fiancee and planned on recreationally drinking instead of fucking, and had already passed out cold, snoring loudly against the window._ _ _ _

_I don’t have that option,_ Izzy bitterly thought. It wasn’t even that he wanted to drink or raise hell anymore. His rehab stint had opened his eyes to how close he’d skated to the edge, and just when he felt like he’d finally made it back to the land of the living, Todd had fallen into the abyss. 

____There’d also been the unspoken question, Is Slash going to be charged with murder? The band had closed ranks and called all the lawyers, and in the end, no one was indicted. Guns was already on thin ice for Axl and Slash’s separate arrests for statutory rape, and Izzy’s incarceration was the final straw. The brass at Geffen was adamant: One more strike, boys, and your asses are done._ _ _ _

____He titled his chin up and blew out a plume of smoke. He hadn’t had many plans for this tour, but he had expected to spend it in the arms of a submissive woman. Sex hadn’t been forbidden by the terms of his probation, not yet anyway, and he’d been, well, enchanted by the idea of a babe who didn’t get fucked up and yet was enthusiastic to do his bidding in the sack. He could slap himself now for believing such a creature even existed._ _ _ _

____He stole a glance at Karen, whose head had slumped forward. Even in her sleep, she looked weary, beautiful but worn out. He realized now, if Absinthe’s description was right, she was just a nice girl looking after her sister, and Celestia’s taste in men must be exhausting if Slash was any indication. Izzy felt his ears growing hot as he thought about how aggressively he’d approached her, even though he’d been promised she was a sure thing. Demanding she immediately hop on his dick wasn’t what he considered finesse._ _ _ _

_____Fuck, how am I going to get laid now?_ That thought was punctuated by a hushed moan from Slash, and Izzy wanted to pound his head against the seat in front of him. He’d just have to hope that somehow Canadian groupies were very willing yet went to church frequently._ _ _ _

_Damn, woman, you’re sure you won’t change your mind about me? I can be romantic if you want me to._

_Can’t do much about me being a dealer though. That ship already sailed._

____He heard Karen stirring behind him, and turned to watch her stretch out and cover herself with a blanket. Since he expected to be wrapped in her arms, Izzy had packed away his own covers, so he buttoned his denim jacket and crossed his arms, sleep mercifully arriving quickly._ _ _ _


	2. And We Fight For the Northern Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s a matter, Izz, you feeling charitable in your old age?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic comes with its own soundtrack. Here's the first song, the namesake of this chapter, this fic and Bella Donna herself (and my pen name).  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkLrGlhshMw

Izzy awakened with a start when he heard the bathroom door slam, and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. His shoulders were aching where he’d propped them against the bus window all night, and his mouth watered for a cup of coffee.

“AXL!” A blonde girl wearing a flannel shirt and no pants was kicking the bathroom door. “You fucking asshole, don’t run away from me!”

“Go away! Go talk to your buddy Dougie!” a baritone hollered from behind the door. 

“I was asking him if we were going to eat breakfast! Don’t pull this jealous shit with me!”

Izzy stood up and calmly knocked on the door. “Axl, some people need to piss. Open up.”

Axl opened the door, and Izzy brushed past him. “Shut the door, there’s ladies present,” he growled.

“I don’t see any,” Axl said, then Izzy shoved him out and swiftly locked the door. Unzipping his pants, Izzy heard the girl yell, “You are going to get over yourself NOW!”

“Oh, fuck you, Velvet!” Axl screamed. “We just won’t stop anywhere!” 

Izzy exited the bathroom as Velvet took notice of the seat behind her. _“Karen,”_ she said in a clipped voice.

“Velvet, how are you?”

“Well, y’know, same old same old.”

Karen nodded, and Velvet narrowed her eyes at her. “You in love with this one yet?” she smirked, flicking her eyes at Izzy.

“No,” Karen sighed.

“Give her time,” Izzy deadpanned.

Velvet threw him a vicious smirk. “I’d be careful if I were you. Her pussy’s connected to her heart.”

“Fuck, Velvet, now Izzy too?” Axl spat from the front seat.

With murder in her eyes, Velvet took off for row part two, and Izzy sat back down in his seat. “Care to explain to me what that was all about?” he said to Karen.

“No,” she answered, and Celestia, wrapped in a quilt, scootched next to her. She put her arms around Karen and dropped her head on her shoulder. “I’m hungry, Sissy.”

Karen opened her purse and handed her some beef jerky. “Would you like some?” she asked Izzy.

He shook his head, lighting a cigarette. “You’re really offering a lowlife like me food?”

“I’m not going to let you starve.” Her eyes narrowed. “My sister is hungry.”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“That’s a basic human need. You catching my drift?”

Izzy pinched the bridge of his nose, blowing out a sigh, then walked up to the front of the bus. When he returned, he dropped into his seat and said, “There’s a truck stop 40 minutes from here. McDonald’s is closer, but I thought you ladies might want to shower.”

“Thank you,” Karen mouthed, holding Celestia.

They all filed into the restaurant, the patrons immediately turning their heads. Izzy wasn’t sure if it was because all but one of the men wore leather pants or because Absinthe’s breasts were in imminent danger of escaping her blouse, then the smell of coffee hit his nasal cavity and he no longer cared. 

The couples paired off (Izzy was relieved Velvet had put on some pants), and Doug sat next to Duff. Izzy took his seat at the head of the table, and to his surprise, Karen took the seat on his right, beside Celestia, who hadn’t let go of Slash’s hand.

“What’ll you have, sugar?” the waitress asked him. 

“Coffee.”

“Cream and sugar?”

He shook his head. 

“And for you, honey?”

“Decaf tea. Can you put mine on a separate check please?”

“Why?” Izzy demanded.

Karen shot him a look.

“She’s on ours. This is one check,” he explained.

The waitress shrugged, then moved to Celestia and Slash.

“Why do you want a separate check?” he hissed.

“Because I’m not sleeping with you.”

“So?”

“I’m not beholden to you or the band.”

Izzy rolled his eyes. 

“I can pay my own way.”

“Which you don’t have to.”

Their waitress returned, pen at the ready. “Honey, you decide on something to eat?”

None of it had looked good to Izzy. Greasy spoons weren’t his favorite places. “Uh, eggs and toast.”

“How do you want your eggs?”

“Over hard.”

“Hash browns?”

“No.”

She looked at Karen. “Still want yours on a separate check?”

Karen looked at Izzy, who shook his head. “No. I’ll have biscuits and gravy, please.”

Izzy drank the last of his coffee, then leaned over to Karen. “Just keep these broads out of my hair and we’ll call it even, okay?”

Karen nodded, lowering her eyes.

After their waitress dropped off their plates, Axl pointed his fork at Karen. “I want to know what your story is.”

“Karen is rock and roll royalty,” Celestia said proudly.

Izzy raised his eyebrows.

Celestia threw her arm around Karen. “She went on tour with Stevie Nicks.”

“Really?” Axl smirked, and Velvet rolled her eyes. 

“My uncle knew the lighting director for ‘The Wild Heart’ tour, and I begged him for a job. I was only 17, but I told him I was 21, and I was Stevie’s gofer. It wasn’t that glamorous,” Karen explained, her cheeks flushing.“You knew Stevie?” Izzy asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. I was very close to her. And at the time, she was with Joe Walsh, and he was like a dad to me.”

“Joe Walsh?” Slash asked. “What’s he like?”

Karen smiled, although her eyes were sad. “Very sweet and kind. And smarter than hell. And every now and then, this sweet and kind man would get out his chainsaw and redecorate his hotel room.”

Slash laughed. “Did you see him do that?”

“No. I did watch Stevie talk him out of it, though.” Chuckling, she said, “I didn’t hear what she said to him, but I think it was something like, “Imma put this platform boot up your ass if you don’t knock it off.”

“I didn’t know she was with Joe Walsh,” Slash said.

“Yeah. They were really in love.”

“That was like, _totally awesome,”_ Axl obnoxiously bucked his teeth at her, “but that wasn’t what I meant. Why won’t you fuck Izzy?”

“She doesn’t have to,” Izzy said quietly.

“Well, there has to be a reason.”

“She told me she’s not in love with him,” Velvet purred. “That’s the only reason that one ever spreads her legs.”

“Well, she can get the fuck off our tour then. We don’t need a frigid bitch like you,” he sneered at her.

“Axl, knock it off,” Izzy said. “She stays.”

“Why?” Axl shot back.

“Because I said so.” Izzy lit a cigarette and sat back, his arms crossed.

“Maybe we should head back to the showers, Sis,” Karen whispered to Celestia, and the two women gathered their things and walked to the back of the truck stop.

“Wait for me!” Absinthe called, her ample breasts nearly bouncing free of her neckline, and Velvet kissed Axl, then slid her bag on her arm and got up.

Axl flicked an ash into the ashtray. “What’s a matter, Izz, you feeling charitable in your old age?”

Izzy exhaled smoke through his nose. “I thought I had the final word.”

Axl nodded. “You do, but I can’t see why you’d keep a chick that won’t put out.”

“Yeah,” Doug smirked, “whaddya gonna do, play checkers with her?”

Izzy narrowed his eyes at him. If he had his way, he’d boot off their fucking cop of a tour manager as well as the girls. _Preferably with my boot still lodged in his ass._

“I think she’s cool,” Steven smiled. “I love Stevie Nicks.”

Izzy looked at Slash. “She’s a package deal with your chick. And in light of everything that’s happened, you really don’t need to be with someone 16.”

“You’ve got balls to say that, dude,” Slash answered.

“You ain’t on probation,” Izzy said. 

“Then why the fuck did you agree to this?” Duff asked. “I mean, I thought for sure you’d say no.”

Izzy shrugged. _I thought I had a dream come true._

“Well, I’m glad he didn’t,” Steven said. “I owe ya big time, man.”

Izzy nodded. 

“Yeah,” Duff groaned, “of course you found the screamer.”

Izzy knitted his eyebrows at him.

“Oh, yeah, fucking 5 o’clock in morning she’s howling her head off! Can’t even have a hangover around here!” Duff took a drag off his cigarette. “And you,” he pointed the two fingers holding his smoke at Axl, “of course you picked a fight with their hellcat and woke me up when I finally got back to sleep.”

Celestia sat down in Slash’s lap, her wet hair hanging to her shoulders. “Your turn, honey.”

He shook his head. “Nah, we’ll be at the hotel tonight. None of us are big on showering anyway.”

Karen’s eyes met Izzy’s, her lip faintly curling up in revulsion. 

“Aren’t you glad you won’t open your legs?” he said into her ear.

“Extremely,” she frowned.

Izzy stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. “You ladies ready to go?”

“I have to hit the convenience store,” Karen said.

“Why?” he asked. “You outta supplies already?”

Karen adjusted that massive bag on her shoulder. “I need to stock up.”

Izzy watched in amazement as she loaded up a basket with cup noodles, more beef jerky, tampons, sanitary pads, an assortment of tea, deodorant, a jar of peanut butter and some crackers, 3 notebooks, and every condom in the store.

The clerk handed her a receipt and Karen dumped the grocery bag into her purse. “I’m ready,” she said to Izzy.

“Did you forget anything?” he asked dryly, holding the door open for her.

“Oh, shit, yes I did,” she gasped, then dashed back inside.

He shook his head, then stood on the sidewalk outside and lit a smoke. The door dinged and Karen stepped out. 

“Did you leave the Hope Diamond back there, Gladys?” Izzy cracked, stepping onto the bus.

She followed behind him down the aisle. “No, I had to get some cologne, cause you dirty fuckers won’t bathe.”

“Really?” Slash asked, looking up.

“Hell no. I did pick you up some shower shoes, so you won’t catch foot fungus on top of anything else. Maybe you’ll take a hint.” Karen stopped and handed out their flip-flops to them, then reached Izzy’s seat and handed them his.

“With all the rubbers you bought, we might not catch anything,” he remarked, watching her situate herself in the back. He thought that was kinda sad, really, this kind woman buying all those condoms and not planning on using a single one of them.

“If we stop near a university, I’ll slip into the student health center, they usually have them for free.”

“Or,” Izzy said, raising his eyebrows, “you could let these girls be responsible for themselves, Mother Bird.”

Karen narrowed her eyes. “The only thing dumber than groupies are the bands they’re fucking.”

“Ouch,” he said. “Who hurt you?”

Her chin jutted forward. “Izzy, do you know what a groupie is?”

“Yeah. It’s a girl who fucks a guy cause he’s in a band.”

“They’re just a collection of holes to you guys. And they are at your mercy.”

He shrugged. “They knew what they were getting into.”

“They signed up for sex. They didn’t sign up for the mood swings, the temper tantrums, and the suicidal tendencies.” She moved into the seat next to him. “Everyone thinks that being a groupie is so glamorous, but it’s totally the opposite. We become your caretakers. And who takes care of the caretakers?” Digging in her bag, she pulled out a cigarette and he lit it. “And we’re disposable. Whenever the girlfriends or the wives show up, you just kick us to the curb. And that’s if we’re lucky.”

He took a drag of his smoke. “And if you’re not?”

Her voice grew quieter. “Then you’re taking a terrified 14-year-old to an abortion clinic because the lead singer was dumb enough to believe she was on birth control.” 

“Were you a groupie?”

“I didn’t think so, but he did.” She took a long drag. “I don’t discuss that. My point is, these girls need someone to advocate for them. I get calls now, from people I don’t even know, because they heard through the grapevine this ‘Bella Donna’ person can help them. The night before last, I was in Barstow looking for an emergency dentist at 3am because the singer had knocked this girl’s front teeth out.”

“Did you find one?”

She stepped on the butt of her cigarette. “I took her to the ER. She didn’t think he’d done anything wrong and was gonna go back to him.”

“So you’re like, what, this groupie guardian angel?”

Her face flushed as she got up. “Y’know, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’re the sketchiest motherfucker there ever was. I know about your arrangement with your little stripper girlfriend.”

Izzy stood up, his cheeks heating in anger. “That was HER idea! How the _fuck_ you know all this?”

She whirled around to face him. “People love to brag about what hellraisers you are. How you're the bad boys of the Sunset Strip. And y’know, if you buy your fans a drink, or seven or eight, why, some of them will tell you EVERYTHING. Especially when you write songs about their fucked up lives without giving them any percentage of the royalties.”

Izzy slumped down in his seat. Of course, she found Michelle Young. And Michelle, elated that someone had given her immortality in verse form, had sung like it was karaoke night in hell. She probably told her that his real name was Jeff and he wore a size 11 shoe and no underwear.

“Well, I’m glad your fact-finding mission proved fruitful,” he spat.

Her head was down, and Izzy couldn’t see her face. “I would give anything to have never needed one,” she said tiredly, then retreated to the back seat.


	3. Borders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve heard of you guys. You’re fucking _wild,”_ she giggled.

Getting Karen’s massive purse through border patrol made Izzy wish he hadn’t given up drinking, but the crossing was easier than he had anticipated and he now had to find a payphone to call his probation officer to tell her he’d made it to Canada.

He genuinely liked his PO, a fifty-something chainsmoker named Fran, feeling a little sorry that she spent her days up to her neck in reprobates, and if he lived a thousand years he’d never forget the look of horror that filled her face when he told her he’d been cleared by a judge to tour up north.

“Izzy, don’t,” she’d said softly, her concerned eyes widening in her weathered face. “You’ve been given another chance, don’t blow it. Go to trade school, be a welder or something.”

“Frannie,” he said, blowing a plume of smoke, “this is what I do.”

“What you did nearly got you sent to the penitentiary. _This_ is a hobby. You will not get off the next time, kid. You have no support on the road, unless you call a sponsor.”

“I don’t do the twelve steps.”

“Of course you don’t. Izzy, if you get in trouble, what are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “I can stay in my room while they get fucked up.”

She took a drag and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure you will. Tell you what, you call me the second you get there, and every Monday and Wednesday morning. And if you did happen to get into a situation where you needed someone, call my house. I’ll sponsor you, or at least talk you through a craving.”

He picked up the receiver and plunked his Canadian currency in the coin slot. “Fran, this is Izzy, I made it over the border.”

“Good.” He heard her exhale smoke on the other end. “Have you gotten fucked up yet?”

“No,” he answered, slightly offended. “Look, I know your bloomers are in a wad, but honestly I don’t do that shit anymore. I had-what’s that called? An epiphany?-while I was drying out. I don’t want to die for that shit, and I’m damn lucky I didn’t.”

“You’re still an addict, and that hoo-rah attitude won’t make that go away. Keep the sentiment, though, you’re going to need it when the chips are down. And son, guess what, they’re always down.”

“Good to know. How do these piss tests work up here anyway?”

“Same as here. Take your papers to a doctor’s office, then unzip and let ‘er rip. They fax the results to me and I determine whether or not you remain a free man.”

“Okay.”

Another exhale. “And you really should get some counseling if you can.”

“Frannie, I don’t know if I have time for that.”

“You’ll have 5 to 10 if you don’t.”

“Ouch. Okay.”

“All right, Mr. Isbell, you are free to go. And Izzy?”

“Yeah?”

“Make me proud of you.”

He grinned. “Will do.”

It took a lot to impress Izzy, and even though he’d lived in every shithole in LA, he was still kinda taken aback by the rattiness of the hotel lobby’s carpet. There were a lot of questionable stains just out here, and he shuddered inside thinking about the state of his mattress.

Their assorted crew assembled at the front desk, and Doug efficiently retrieved his and Axl’s room keys and split with Axl and Velvet in tow, who hadn’t bothered to interrupt their screaming match just because they were indoors.

Duff, still sporting his aviator sunglasses, weaved his way to the desk on long, unsteady legs and slurred, “Room for Phil Likesheet, please.”

The clerk, who looked badly in need of a gallon of the rocket fuel sloshing around in Duff’s veins, produced a key without a smile. 

“I’m Luke Likesheet, same room.” Slash mumbled somewhere behind his hair, his top hat listing forward, and received his key with a cooing Celestia draped around his neck.

Steven and Absinthe finally stopped kissing, and she pressed herself against him as he said with a grin, “And I’m Smell Likesheet, I’m with them.”

The clerk blinked, then shaking his head, handed over the key. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Likesheet,” he said, and Absinthe erupted with a loud laugh.

Izzy picked up his bag. “Room for Mr. Jewel.”

The clerk said, “Not related to the Likesheet brothers?”

Izzy shook his head, rolling his eyes. 

The clerk scanned the book with his finger, then nodded. “Ah, here you are. Mr. and Mrs. Jewel.”

Karen shot Izzy a look that would kill, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, just one key please. We’re getting a divorce.”

Karen stepped up to the counter. “Can I get a single please? On a different floor?”

The clerk chuckled. “Certainly, Mrs. Jewel. How about 210?”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Your room is going on his tab.” He grinned. “Take him to the cleaners, girl.”

Karen tried to smile, and Izzy caught up with her in front of the elevator. 

“I didn’t book that room, Niven did,” he hissed as the doors opened and they got on. “He’s our manager.”

She threw him another hard look. “Isn’t a manager supposed to talk you out of deviant behavior?” 

Izzy shrugged. He’d never considered that. Niv liked to snort blow off a hooker’s ass just as much as the next guy. Maybe even more.

“That explains a lot,” she snapped. The elevator stopped. “Please tell the girls I’m in 210 if they need me.”

“Wait,’ he said, and she held the door open with her back to him. “Are you not coming up?”

“No,” she said, adjusting her bag as she stepped off, “you said they don't need a Mother Bird.”

Izzy heard the uproar before the elevator even opened, then saw a mostly naked Absinthe run by, giggling like mad, with Steven laughing and running after her. Izzy shook his head and walked down the corridor to his room, strategically placed far from the insanity. That he had asked Niv for, a room separate from the band.

He threw his suitcase down on the bed, and lit a cigarette. The room smelled just as nasty as he’d expected it, maybe a little mustier, and was about as inviting as a hard kick in the nuts. 

Sitting down on the bed, he reached for the remote, then perused the two channels and clicked it off with a sigh. Maybe he should've followed Karen’s lead and brought a book with him. He hadn’t planned how to spend his time this far in advance, and he was already bored.

He kicked himself for not asking her what she did for fun on a tour, since this obviously wasn't her first. Maybe she’d have a tip or two, although it sounded like Joe Walsh had made hers rather lively. 

_Did any of his bandmates pack a chainsaw?_ he wondered without irony.

He paced around the tiny room, flicking open the curtains to behold a stunning view of a brick wall, then decided It wouldn’t hurt to be neighborly. Maybe Axl and Velvet were in a quieter mood. Or had screamed themselves hoarse. He hoped not, they had a show soon, and Axl’s attendance had become rather iffy as of late.

The door to the band’s room was flung open, and some of the party had spilled into the hallway. Izzy saw Doug macking on a very young thing with too much eye makeup by a dusty potted plant, and Axl was holding court on a ratty couch inside with Velvet perched on his lap.

“I’m rock royalty too,” she spat, her arms around Axl’s neck. “I mean, I was engaged to Tommy Lee, for fuck’s sake. But why tie myself down? At least that’s what Nikki said when I fucked him. And Vince. Mick didn’t say anything, he just moaned.” She laughed, her face twisting harshly. “That dumb bitch couldn’t keep Steve Clark’s dick in his pants, and he was so drunk he couldn’t get it up half the fucking time.”

So that’s who Steve is, Izzy realized, then felt a pair of arms snake around his waist. He looked down and saw a strikingly pretty girl with long brown hair not a day over 16 smiling up at him, her face so innocent-looking Izzy wondered if she’d been sent from heaven.

“Hi,” she said, then pecked a kiss on his exposed chest.

“Uh, hi,” he answered, then closed his eyes and sighed as she untied and unbuttoned his shirt, then kissed his stomach, biting back a yelp as her hand dipped into his pants.

“Oh, you’re ready to go,” she murmured, unlacing the tie at the crotch, pausing to palm his stiffening cock through the leather. “Damn,” she whispered, her dark eyes meeting his, her wicked little tongue teasing him just above his navel.

“Not here,” he choked, his legs threatening to give out as he felt her fingertips on the bare skin of his dick.

“You’re shy?” she asked, incredulous. “Okay,” and pulled him into the bathroom. She locked the door and immediately dropped to her knees and jerked his pants down.

Izzy could hear his harsh breathing even as the blood pounded in his ears, gasping as she took him into her warm mouth. He’d been on a slow simmer since he’d gotten on the bus the other night, and this was exactly what he needed.

He whined as she licked down his length, then she pulled back and sucked the tip, darting her tongue into the slit, and as she tried to deepthroat him, he came so suddenly he didn’t have time to warn her. She swallowed his load like a pro, then stood up, her hand coolly flicking her hair over her shoulder.

Izzy was still panting as he watched her dig into her sequined bag and pull out a baggie of white powder and a mirror, laying both on the sink. She cut such even lines with a razor blade he was mutely impressed, then looked over at him. “Are you Axl?” she asked.

He shook his head, tucking himself in and lacing up his pants. “No.”

She snorted a line and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then reached out a rolled up bill to him. “I’ve heard of you guys. You’re fucking _wild,”_ she giggled.

Izzy looked at all that beautiful coke and felt a chill go down his spine, his mouth suddenly dry and his heart racing. “I-I have to go,” he blurted, and walked out, not stopping until he came to his room. When he walked inside, Izzy had an overwhelming urge to take a very hot shower, then afterward laid his palms on the wall and pounded his head against it.


	4. Different Speeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Heard you met Kasey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Track #2 is by the sadly underrated Cowboy Junkies. It was released in '93, and I wondered if I should include in a fic set in 1987, but then I realized this is fiction and there's no rules! Yayyy! It's such a killer song I had to add it.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajtnaiLaJNQ

Checkout was at the ungodly hour of 11, and of course none of the band was anywhere to be found, just Karen perched on a chair in the lobby, still reading her book. _Love’s Surrender_ was the title of it, and Izzy snorted through his nose. Surrendering was probably the last thing this uptight broad ever did.

“Fun night?” she asked, her eyes not leaving her page.

He shrugged. “‘S’all right.”

She lowered her book. “Heard you met Kasey.”

Izzy blinked. “Uh, um, yeah.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperation pulling down her mouth. “Oh, of course you don’t know her name,” she snapped.

“She didn’t know mine either,” he retorted. “She thought I was Axl.”

Karen sighed. “She blew him too.”

“Huh. I thought he was with Velvet.”

Her eyes met his. “Velvet insisted on it.”

Izzy furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hazing ritual. She made Kasey suck him off in front of everyone, then he announced that Velvet was better at it. Velvet always does the local talent dirty.”

Izzy closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathed, “you bitches don’t take any prisoners.”

She gave him a hard look. “You’re the wildest band in LA. Did you expect angelic whores?”

Izzy frowned, then said, “You’re not just here because of us, are you? You protect her from the other girls too.”

“No. She’s everyone’s little sister, although I’d kill one of them for doing something to her.” She narrowed her eyes at him again. “I’m here because I think I need to be. Cause if I didn’t, I’d be sitting this shindig out. This is definitely my last rodeo.”

“This is your third tour, isn’t it? You were with Def Leppard too.”

Her eyes widened, and Izzy nearly licked his lips in glee. “Steve is Steve Clark. I found out some dirt about you,” he smirked.

“Choose your next words _very carefully,”_ she said in a low voice.

“You were a groupie. Were you running naked through the hallways too?”

She stiffened, eyes widening and her face going pale, and for a second Izzy thought she was going to slap his face. “No, I was trying to keep him from killing himself, you fucking asshole,” she gritted, then slumped down. “I thought a blow job would put you in a better mood. Guess you’re just a dick 24/7.”

“Sissy!” Celestia cried, flopping down on Karen’s lap. 

“Hi, Sis. You and your beau doing all right?”

“Yeah,” Celestia answered, centering herself on Karen’s legs. She was taller than Karen, and was nearly crushing her. “Did I tell you he has an anaconda?”

Karen made a face. “Celestia, I don’t need to hear about that.”

Celestia giggled. “No, he has a snake! His name is Clyde. He has some bearded dragons too.”

Karen shifted in her chair. “That’s lovely, Sis. Who’s taking care of them?”

Celestia hung onto Karen’s shoulders. “Uh, he says someone named Yvonne.”

Karen took a deep breath. “Is that his girlfriend?” she asked gently.

“His ex.”

“Uh huh. And she still has custody of his pets?”

Celestia nodded.

“Then she’s not an ex. An ex would’ve poisoned them.”

“You think he still has a girlfriend?” Celestia gasped.

Karen shot another look at Izzy. “I think they all do. Probably a few kids they don’t know about too.”

Celestia leaped off Karen’s lap. “Omigosh! _Slaa-ash!_ Do you have any kids?”

Slash took a sip from a styrofoam cup and pulled his top hat down over his eyes. “I don’t think so,” he muttered, throwing an arm around Celestia.

Izzy shook his head. “You have a really cynical view of the world, don’t you?”

Karen snorted. “I’m never wrong.”

Izzy took a drag from a cigarette. “Actually, you are.”

“Is he still seeing Yvonne?”

“Hell if I know. But I don’t have a girlfriend. Mine got married. And not to me.”

Karen looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. You write a song about a woman, and she dumps yer ass when you’re drying out.”

“Was it ‘Sweet Child of Mine?’”

He shook his head. “I co-wrote the music on that, but no. I wrote ‘Patience’ for her.”

Karen’s eyes widened in amazement. _“You_ wrote ‘Patience?’”

He stood up and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Yeah. And you’re wrong about something else too. I’m not a dick 24/7, although you’ll never find that out.” 

Izzy leaned over his seat on the bus and looked down at Karen, still engrossed in her book.

“What do you do for fun on the road?” he asked her.

She didn’t look up. “I’m having a love affair with my vibrator.”

“Oh, ha ha, smartass.”

She turned a page. “You think I’m joking. It’s Japanese and has different speeds. I’ll never need a man again.”

Izzy didn’t say anything, but he could feel his eyes getting bigger. _Guess you’re not the prude I thought you were._

“Wow, that shut you up,” she chuckled, looking up at him. “Are you bored on the road already?”

He nodded. “I don’t get fucked up anymore, and that took up a lot of time, y’know. I’m not scoring or getting drunk and now I have just…...time.”

“Yeah. Well, I like to read, and being with my sisters. Sometimes, I like to see the towns we’re in, get out of the hotel a little. I like shooting pool. I really like karaoke but I doubt if they have a lot of that here. I’ve seen your itinerary and it wasn’t promising, they’ve got you out in Bumfuck most of the time.” She knitted her eyebrows. “You’re a guitarist, why don’t you play guitar?”

“That’s what I did last night. I don’t know if I can do that every night.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m sure there’s a Kasey in every town. I doubt you’ll be bored for long.”

He shrugged. “That does it for you? Reading all the time?”

She looked up at him. “I rather enjoy being bored. There were many times I was on the verge of a heart attack, and I longed to be bored.”

“Steve kept you hopping, huh?”

She held his eyes for a long time, furious, then dropped her head. “Yeah, he did.” She looked up. “Is that what you want, me to talk about him? Fine. I was in love, he wasn’t, end of story.”

He saw the pain etched in her face, and he let it drop. He lit a cigarette and asked, “You’ve seen our itinerary?”

“Yeah. The record company doesn't have a lot of faith in you, do they?”

He shook his head. “They think we’ll be dead by the end of this week.”

“Those seem like good odds. Where’s your record at?”

“At?”

“The top 100.”

“I dunno, 101 I guess.”

“Is it moving up?”

Izzy blinked. 

She sighed. “Okay, how big was your record deal?”

“Two hundred fifty grand.”

She sucked air between her teeth. “You know you have to recoup your costs, right? I’m guessing you have a slew of lawyers and a bunch of court fees too.”

Silence.

_“Izzy._ Have you talked to MTV?”

He shook his head. “They won’t play our video.”

“You made a video? For how much?”

“$75,000. With Nigel Dick.”

“Ooh, you used a name.”

“That’s bad?”

“Yeah, cause he’s the only one who made money from it.” She lit a cigarette. “Izzy, are you aware you guys are broke?”

“We're getting a per diem.”

“You’re in the hole is what you are. Who are you signed with?”

“Uh, Geffen.”

“Huh. So just one man owns your ass.”

“So what you’re saying is that we’re in debt to the record company?”

“Yeah, big time. I mean, Hoss, if your album tanks, you could be sued.”

He exhaled. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I paid attention when the suits showed up. I knew there had to be a reason for a record exec to leave his wife and kids to hump it all the way out to BFE to talk to the band.” She lit another cigarette. “”Pyromania’ started moving up the charts, and the suits came more and more frequently.”  
“Def Leppard are millionaires. I mean, their music sucks, but they made a shitload of money off of it.”

“It took them awhile to make it, though. They had to pay back Mercury, plus they used Marilyn Monroe’s image in the ‘Photograph’ video and it cost them a bundle.” She shook her head. “Your attorney fees will keep you in the red for a while. Especially if you keep playing these podunk towns.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Karen took a drag. “Well, maybe the record company is looking out for you. They probably figure you can’t kill yourselves out here in the boonies.”

“IZZY!” Steven shrieked, slapping him on the back. “Howya doin’, brother?”

Izzy smiled. “I’m all right, man. How are you?”

Steven was nearly hopping up and down in his dingy white hi tops. “I’m so excited, man, we’ve got a gig tonight. We’re gonna ROCK Canada, aren’t we, Izz?”

“You bet your ass, Stevie.”

“You!” Steven shouted to Karen. “You, what’s your name? Donna?”

“Karen.”

“Yeaah, Karen. You really should fuck Izzy, girl! He’s cool. Like the coolest brother you could ever have.”

Izzy smirked. “She says she doesn’t need a man, she got a device with different speeds.”

Steven looked horrified, then he grinned. “Well, let him use it on you.”

Karen blinked, and Izzy cleared his throat. “Dude, she’s not into that,” he said.

“Too bad. Fuck, that girl I’m with is _insane,_ man. She ate that girl Kasey out last night for like an hour, man. Then they sucked me off at the same time! I’m living the dream, Izz. I don’t want this tour to ever end.” He hugged Izzy, then went back to his seat and snuggled up to a sleeping Absinthe.

Izzy raised an ornery eyebrow at Karen. “So, different speeds, huh?”

“Absolutely not. And you can’t borrow it either.” Her eyes slid to Steven’s seat. “Coke always make him like that?”

“Yeah, he takes a while to come down. He’s pretty hyper to begin with.”

“Well, you should have a high energy set then.”

Izzy rested his arms on the top of the seat. “You’ve seen us play. What do you think?”

Karen fought a smile. “You don’t suck.”

“Says the woman who traveled with Def Leppard.”

She gave him the middle finger. “Keep it up, Hoss, and I’ll ram my Japanese precious where the sun don’t shine.”

Izzy puckered his lips and made obnoxious kissing noises, then said, “Promises, promises,” and flopped down in his seat.


	5. S'up Fuckers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cradling his guitar and peering into the band’s dressing room, Izzy saw four girls jockeying for position in front of the mirror and no band.

Cradling his guitar and peering into the band’s dressing room, Izzy saw four girls jockeying for position in front of the mirror and no band.

“Karen, will you do sexy eyes on me?” Celestia asked, dabbing on lip gloss.

Karen teased her hair on the sides. “You got pencil eyeliner?”

“Yeah.”

Izzy cleared his throat.

Absinthe turned around and winked at him. “Here,” she said, moving over to give him room in front of the mirror and waving for him to come in. “You already look hot.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze down to his boots. He really needed them to leave, he had a stubborn cowlick that needed his attention and he didn’t want to pull his flatiron out in front of them. Bad enough Marc got his picture with it last year, even though he was mouthing Fuck OFF rather plainly.

Karen peered over Celestia’s head and caught Izzy’s eyes. “Keep yer bloomers on, Hoss. When we look good, you look good. Give us a few, then you can have the whole place to yourself, so you can meditate or jack off or do whatever your little pre-show ritual is.” 

After some more blending and fluffing and spraying, the girls left, happily chattering under their heavy eye makeup, leaving Karen behind. Shoulders slumping, she lifted the cover off a dusty hat box and pulled out a worn satin top hat. She arranged her curls underneath it, then tugged down her faded black peplum jacket and tightly smiled at Izzy.

“So this is ‘Bella Donna,’” he said softly, his head tilting as he looked her up and down.

She nodded, turning away.

“You hate this. So why do you do it?”

She took a deep breath. “Because sometimes you can be who you are, and sometimes you have to be what people think you are. And I imagine you can probably relate.” She brushed past him, following the others.

Izzy never had nerves before a show, he would play to anyone, anytime, even if it was only to the dead roaches on the carpet. Steven, true to his hyper nature, was tapping his drumsticks against the wall (and against Slash’s hat, receiving an irritated swat in return) and Duff was still at the payphone outside, cooing long distance to his missus, his eyes misting at the sound of her voice.

Now that he thought about it, Izzy hadn’t seen Axl since they stopped at the venue. After a profane, blazing row that lasted twenty-five miles, he’d grabbed Velvet and shoved her against the bus, and she’d kicked him in the stomach and took off. She’d resurfaced with the girls in the dressing room, rather subdued, and he’d watched her dab concealer on the bruises on the side of her neck. But he hadn’t seen Axl.

Even back in Indiana, Izzy never knew what made Axl tick. He’d had a hellacious home life, raised by an abusive holy roller step-dad, but he hadn’t left his demons in the Midwest. The inner torment and agony that plagued him and gave him nightmares ironically made him an amazing frontman and songwriter, and Izzy knew the band was the only thing keeping him from suicide or prison.

He’d missed a show before the band was signed, and the rest of them had been livid. Izzy had to step up and provide the vocals, and he had felt like he’d been pantsed in front of everyone with his dick and balls flapping in the breeze. The remaining four had trashed the dressing room in their fury, smashing mirrors, broken glass everywhere, even in Slash’s hair, then Izzy had gone on a drug binge that had lasted three days.

“‘S'up, fuckers.” A cocky baritone broke through his thoughts, and Axl flashed them a greasy, shit-eating grin, then pulled a comb out of his pocket and began elaborately ratting his hair in front of the mirror.

The girls stood in an excited, grinning clump on Slash’s side of the stage. The blinding lights kept Izzy from seeing them from his side, but it was nice to know someone was there who supported them personally. Izzy didn’t expect the Canadian fans to be as destructive as the gobbing, bottle-flinging English ones, but he knew from experience not to take anything for granted onstage.

A few songs in, he realized they weren’t as tight as he had hoped. For months, rehearsals had taken a back seat to drug abuse and court dates, and Izzy hadn’t been able to play with them at all during his rehab. Still, they’d been together so long, they knew what the other would do before they even thought of it, and Axl and Slash were consummate performers who could rise to any occasion. Izzy himself hunkered in the shadows, letting the other ones grab all the adoration, and to his immense relief he found he still played infinitely better sober than high.

Duff wasn’t just their bassist, he was their unofficial bandleader, and he stayed in constant eye contact with Steven, laying down an unshakeable groove that the rest of them followed like a lifeline. The overall performance was here and there, but they soldiered on to the end, and two of them were met with excited squeals and hugs backstage.

After a quick shirt change (and a discreet check to make sure he’d unplugged his flatiron), Izzy watched The Cult file onstage, then saw Karen regarding them in horror and Amy giggling, her head dropping on Karen’s shoulder. 

“Oh my god, have you ever seen an uglier band?” Absinthe cackled.

“You don’t have to do this,” Karen said, as the drummer counted off and they started their hit, “Fire Woman.”

The two women started dancing, and Izzy was shocked to see Karen moving sensually with the music, in sync with her friend, her arms above her head, her head thrown back as her hips rolled and bucked with the bassline.

Turning his head to their side of the stage, Ian had noticed the girls swaying to the music, and was performing now to them, his crotch aggressively thrusting forward as he sang.

Absinthe threw back her head and laughed, then lifted her blouse and shook her naked breasts at him, and Ian let out a roar onstage, dancing in a small circle, then extended his arm to her and she twirled onstage into his arms.

Karen shook her head, her eyes rolling in the dark, then walked through the backstage area and headed for the bus. 

Izzy caught up with her. “Is that the last we’ve seen of Absinthe?”

Karen pulled her jacket around her tighter in the cold. “Yeah, she usually doesn’t stay with the opening act.”

“You know, call me innocent, but the groupies we always had were with us cause they were our fans. Not because we were accessories. Or stepping stones.”

Karen walked up the steps on the bus. “Welcome to the big leagues.”

Sitting down, Izzy lit a cigarette, then handed Karen one. “I feel so used.”

She took a drag, then said, “Karma’s a bitch, huh?”

They sat for a few minutes in silence, then Celestia and Slash climbed on board, giggling and kissing, groping wildly as they settled in their seats.

Karen and Izzy’s eyes met, then they heard a strangled hiss from Slash.

“Uh, guys, you know we’re here, right?” Karen called.

“Oops,” Celestia said. “Um, Sissy, can you give us a few? My honey needs to unwind a little bit.”

“Do you need condoms?” Karen asked, and Slash shouted, “No, Mom!”

Karen sighed, and she and Izzy filed off the bus, rubbing their arms and stamping their feet in front of the venue.

“He won’t be long,” Izzy said. “He’s a quick shooter.”

“Funny, that’s what Kasey said about you.’

Izzy glared at her, and Karen’s shoulders dropped. “Sorry. That was just a cheap shot.” She adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “Look, I need to apologize to you.  
I wouldn’t tell anyone that you hit us or raped us, and I wouldn’t stand for one of the girls doing it. That was just a bluff.”

He stepped on his cigarette butt. “Yeah, I figured that out, after it was too late to dump you girls off.”

She nodded, then smiled at him. “I’ll keep them out of your hair, I promise.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job so far, current situation notwithstanding, although I’m surprised you haven’t jumped Axl’s ass over Velvet.”

“I don’t meddle in her affairs, unless she asks for help and she never will. The last guy she was with was Prince Charming material, and I felt sorry for him.”

“Who was that?”

“Sav. Rick Savage, the bassist.” 

“Not the singer?”

She shook her head. “He preferred them younger.”

“Like maybe 14?” 

She met his eyes, then quietly said, “Yeah.”

“That’s why you’re here. To prevent another pregnancy.”

“No. That butcher fucked her up so bad, she’ll never have another one. I’m making sure she doesn’t pick up any of you guys’ bad habits.” She shifted her weight on one cowboy boot, then the other, shivering in the cold. “How quick a shooter are we talking here?”

Izzy grinned. “We can probably get back on.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “How do you know that, anyway?”

“Threesome,” he chuckled. “A few of them. Ever had one?”

“Yep. Worst experience I ever had in bed.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? _You_ had a threesome?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “It sucks to watch the man you love go down on someone else, when he never does on you. I mean, I washed his underwear out in the sink, you’d think he’d manage to go downtown at least once a month. It doesn't bite. And God knows I went down on him often enough.”

Izzy tightly smiled. “You were ‘this’ for him?” indicating her hat and jacket.

“Yeah. That’s what he wanted me to be. That’s what they wanted me to be. ‘Bella Donna.’”

“And you’re not.”

“No, I’m just a girl named Karen from Bumfuck, who’s boring as hell and freezing her ass off on a Saturday night,” she said, then pounded on the bus door and climbed aboard.


End file.
